


Far Too Young to Die

by Ellia (LudicrousLegacy)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Smut, a dash of angst, my boyfriend calls this "half-smut" lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LudicrousLegacy/pseuds/Ellia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About to be sent on different missions for the first time, Jean and Marco have to find a way to deal with the separation before the dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far Too Young to Die

It was barely a whisper, softer than the flutter of silk against glass, the faint sweep of a blackbird’s wings as she takes flight, but Jean heard, and it made his heart ache.

_“I don’t want to go.”_

He said nothing, for really, there was nothing he could say. He simply gripped Marco’s shoulders a bit tighter, kissed him a bit harder. He didn’t want him to go either….he just wanted to lay here, holding his lover in his arms, hear him breathe and moan and sigh without having to think that in a few hours, he would be far, far away from his softness and his warmth and his intense, passionate love. He didn’t want to think about where he was going, didn’t want to imagine him nervously mounting his horse for the first time without Jean’s steady hands to guide him into the saddle, without the reassuring squeeze to his wrist. He wanted to lose himself in Marco’s sweet scent, his hair tickling his chin, his pale fingers clenched against his chest, over his heart, as though he would claw it right out of him and take it for his own.

Which, Jean thought, was redundant, since it belonged to him anyway.

He felt Marco stiffen in his arms, and he knew that he was suppressing tears, and that more than anything sparked a new kind of tenderness in Jean, the realization that Marco was holding back for his sake. “Marco…please, don’t be sad.” His voice was raspy with disuse. “You’ll break my heart.”

Marco was silent as he struggled to regain control, his face still buried in Jean’s neck.  He almost couldn’t bear it; Jean felt helpless, utterly helpless against the tide of Marco’s grief. And the immensity of it…he could almost feel it seeping into him in a slow, osmotic trickle. It seemed such an overwhelming sadness for one so sweet and cheerful. Childishly, he wished it would just go away, that he could look down and see Marco’s face untouched, his frown lines smoothed away, the girlish blush back in his cheeks and the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

A lump formed in his throat, and his fingers tightened in the back of Marco’s shirt. “You’ll be fine.” He whispered, kissing his forehead, pushing away the hair that hugged his temples. “You’ll be fine…we trained for this. We’ll both be fine, you’ll come back and it will be like this never happened. Don’t forget what I told you.”

He felt a tiny nod against his chest, saw the dark mass of hair shift slightly in the center of his peripheral vision, and his agony subsided just a bit. He held Marco’s body against his own, his almost delicate frailty, his milky limbs so out of proportion with his own. Rarely did Jean feel clumsy, with his easy stride and loping gait, but Marco seemed to embody grace itself with his every movement. He was utterly charming in everything he did, and the mere sight of him whizzing through the air, propelled by his 3DMG, made Jean feel like they could actually win this goddamn war.

“Jean,” Marco’s quiet voice piped up again, and Jean pulled away just enough to be able to see his eyes, which even in the dim light sparkled with tears, “Jean, listen…I just need you to know something, in case…in case I don’t come back.”

“Marco, don’t,” Jean whispered, his jaw clenching, but Marco shook his head. “Jean, please listen,” he urged, and Jean fell silent, his hand coming up to stroke Marco’s hair. “If I don’t make it back…I  just want you to know that I love you. I really do. And meeting you…was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Jean’s hand tightened at the back of Marco’s head, but Marco smiled softly and leaned in to peck him gently on the lips. “In fact…I’m almost glad for this war,” his eyes were closed now, his mouth so close to Jean’s that every breath he took was a tiny gust against his lips, “because without it, I never would have met you…and without you I would never be the same….”

The lump in Jean’s throat was nearly choking him now, and he urged Marco’s head yet closer for a deeper, harsher kiss. “I would never be the same without you either,” he whispered fiercely, and Marco let out a soft gasp as Jean edged closer to him beneath the covers, his other arm wrapping tightly around his waist. “Marco, you had better come back, you hear me?” He growled, and Marco moaned gently, his eyes clenched shut, as Jean pulled him into his body. “Come back. I need you. I _need_ you.”

“Jean, please….” Marco whimpered, and Jean could feel him shifting against him, felt him respond under the covers, and his cheeks flushed darkly. “Please, Jean, I want…I w-want….”

“Come here,” Jean whispered, softer now, and kissed him again, his hand now caressing Marco’s hip through his soft cotton pants. Marco moaned again, his hand dipping under the sheets, creeping up Jean’s chest, pressed against his heart. “I love you,” he mouthed, as Jean began to rock gently, his hips pressing against Marco’s, his breath hitching as Marco whined softly. “Jean…” his voice was cracking now, tears leaking from beneath closed lids, “Jean, more….”

“Look at me,” Jean could hear his own voice breaking, along with his heart, as Marco’s eyes fluttered open, his breathing erratic, his pulse beating harshly in his ears. “I love you.” Jean mumbled, as he reached out to tug Marco’s pants down, Marco frantically moving to do the same to him. He reached out and took them both in hand, kissing Marco’s neck as he bit down on his hand to keep himself from crying out. “I love you.” He said again, and again, and again, until Marco shuddered in his arms and came with a soft cry.

When Jean came, it was with Marco’s lips on his, Marco’s arms around him, Marco’s scent enveloping him, and with tears dripping down his cheeks, his eyes burning hot. He allowed himself a brief moment before fumbling for his shirt, cleaning up, and turning back to Marco, who had already fallen asleep.

He simply pulled him closer, his back pressed to his chest, and closed his eyes. If Jean spent the rest of the night awake, his nose pressed firmly to the back of Marco’s neck, his hand protectively splayed over his heart, the no one had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my lovely boyfriend who wanted some cutesy JeanMarco angst ♥ I love you bby
> 
> I'll leave it up to you guys to decide whether or not Marco makes it back, cause I'm a piece of shit :')
> 
> Title from Panic! at the Disco because again, I'm a piece of shit :') ♥


End file.
